The hardest part about emotional abuse is the part where you think you’re over it, and then you realize that you’re not. I don’t think the abuse was even as bad as the reliving it part. It’s like his words will stick with me forever. I try to express to my therapist that the words bug me, but I don’t think she gets quite how much they sting.
Then, of course, there are the other memories, the ones that I’m not quite sure if I imagined or if they are real. The ones that have plagued me since I was five years old, but I haven’t been able to get them to go away. The ones that I don’t bring up in therapy because I don’t want the scrutiny of the therapist, who regardless of how I write this entry, I do like. It’s difficult to remember things that I’m not quite sure if they happened. How do you know what happened to you when you were five years old? How do you know if your mind was old enough to really comprehend the gravity of the situation? And does it do any good if you can’t put a face to the memory?
Break the Fast yesterday was pretty fun, except when it came time to be the lone Democrat in a room full of Republicans. I should be used to that. You would think that after growing up in the state of Alabama, that I would be used to being the lone blue voter in the state full of red voters. Still I look at them and I wonder how? How can you profess love for everyone and vote Republican? I, personally, feel that the Republican party seems to espouse what come out as hateful values much of the time, tearing the country apart by emphasizing our differences and telling us that we’re all doomed to some great misfortune because we’re not all living conservative lifestyles, even if some of the more conservative people in this world have liberal beliefs.
Well, my mom is ready to walk now, so I guess I should go. I have FHE tonight, but it’s just for the members of our ward. We’re watching Zarahemla. (I did spell that right, btw.)